


Green indeed is the color of lovers

by Petra



Series: Project Get Hulk Laid [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fisting, Identity Porn, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Rimming, Roleplay, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on, I don't want you to Hulk out and fuck me--okay, okay, I do, but I get why you don't want to, it's inherently dangerous, internal trauma, ruptures aren't sexy, yadda yadda yadda--but--"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green indeed is the color of lovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lomedet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomedet/gifts).



> For [](http://lomedet.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lomedet**](http://lomedet.dreamwidth.org/) in honor of waveforms that collapse in the best way possible. Thanks to [](http://dira.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**dira**](http://dira.dreamwidth.org/), [](http://some-stars.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**some_stars**](http://some-stars.dreamwidth.org/), and [](http://scy.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**scy**](http://scy.dreamwidth.org/) for alpha-reading, and to [](http://jamjar.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**jamjar**](http://jamjar.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://samjohnsson.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://samjohnsson.dreamwidth.org/)**samjohnsson** for beta-reading.

"Come on, I don't want you to Hulk out and fuck me--okay, okay, I do, but I get why you don't want to, it's inherently dangerous, internal trauma, ruptures aren't sexy, yadda yadda yadda--but how about some dry humping? Just a little? Making out? Cuddling? We could take a long walk on the beach, then get to first base with Barry Manilow on the stereo, low lighting, take the phone off the hook which obviously nobody actually does anymore but I'd turn off every communication device I know how to turn off. I'd hotbox the lab for you."

"I haven't smoked in years," Bruce says, answering the easiest part first.

"It would even be medicinal, in your case. We could go to Malibu, keep it legal, I know a guy who knows a guy, hell, I know all the guys who know guys."

"We're not going to California to acquire marijuana." Pepper has her bare feet up on the coffee table. She looks like she belongs in a showcase of beautiful homes and beautiful people, not sitting next to Bruce on the couch while Tony paces and talks about sex like it isn't terrifying.

"No, that'd be overkill, you're right."

"And you don't want him in the lab, ever." Bruce shudders to think of the destruction he'd wreak. "Not if we can help it."

Tony nods. "Then a bedroom. All the THC you can inhale. Soft rock."

Pepper puts her hand over Bruce's and tugs him gently till he's leaning against the back of the couch, pretending to be a tenth as relaxed as she is. "Enya? Michael Bolton?"

Tony's look of disgust is priceless and fleeting. He plasters a charming smile onto his face as soon as he can, but the horrified curl of his lip will stick in Bruce's memory. "Whatever works for you, seriously." He swallows and makes the supreme sacrifice: "Yanni?"

"That seems like a lot of work for cuddling when you could sit down right now." Bruce pats the couch cushion on his other side, the soft leather yielding under his hand.

"Well." Tony hesitates, and Bruce knew he would. There's more at stake here than a hug, and always has been. "We could start with cuddling. Basic stuff. And if the cuddling works, if you're comfortable with it, we could work up from there. If. If it works."

It's not the biggest If Bruce has dealt with since he joined the Avengers, but it's right up there. If it doesn't work, the consequences will be worse than he wants to articulate. He could articulate them anyway to try to warn Tony off of this idea, or to get Pepper to rein him in--but that would be condescending. They both know all the things anybody knows about what the other guy's capable of.

"Are you sure about this?" Bruce asks Pepper.

She squeezes his hand. "I know you won't hurt us."

"I hate Barry Manilow," Bruce admits.

"Thank god," they say together.

*

The first thing that Pepper should have known prima facie is that all petting with an enormous guy is heavy petting. Even when he only uses one finger, he puts serious pressure on whoever he's touching. When he moves, the bed creaks and Tony makes a face. "I reinforced that," he says, almost quietly enough that Pepper can't hear him. "I'll fix it tomorrow."

Hulk frowns and holds still, his hand on Pepper's shoulder. Tony threatened to make him the biggest pajamas known to mankind, but he hasn't gotten around to it yet. The reinforced special-order bed is full of vast expanses of naked green skin. Pepper is half on top of him, using part of his arm as a pillow. She's wearing a t-shirt and soft shorts like a slumber party. There's nothing sexual, not yet, for all she's closer to him than she's ever been.

She can hear his heart rate kick up. That's not what they're aiming for, here. She says, "It's okay." Whatever emotions he can sense and however he reacts to them, he has to be used to Tony aiming for perfection.

"NOT BREAK," Hulk says. "NOT MOVE. SORRY."

"We're good, we're good." Tony drums his fingers on Hulk's stomach the way he does when he's thinking--Pepper knows that tapping at her hip, and Bruce has to know it, too.

The thumping heart under her ear slows down. "Are you going to work on it tonight?" Pepper asks.

She doesn't say, wouldn't say, "Don't leave me alone with him."

She hasn't had much time with Bruce one-on-one except for a handful of nights when he was responsible enough to want to sleep and lonely enough not to want to sleep alone, but Tony was working on one of his all-consuming projects. Some of those nights, they held each other until they fell asleep without doing more than they're doing now.

The sex was amazing, but only when they had the energy.

Pepper has years of experience in trying not to be afraid of Tony, whose destructive impulses are inward-facing for the most part. He thinks they're invisible, but she's known him too well since before his chest was a nightlight.

Objectively, she should be afraid of Bruce when he's not himself. He tries to hurt everything and everyone.

He feels safe for the moment, quiescent, letting her use his arm as a pillow. He's quiet, not like the calm before a storm, but the calm after it.

"I'm not going anywhere," Tony says. "You want a kiss, big guy?"

"KISS."

Hulk lifts him as if he weighs nothing. It's not quite like watching Fay Wray, but close.

As for the kiss, there are basic anatomical limitations; it's not a French kiss, this time, just a wet, lingering peck.

Pepper sighs, watching them, enjoying this more than she was expecting to. "Two kisses?" she asks.

Being lifted feels more stable than flying with Iron Man.

The kiss is breathtaking, impossible--and she wants more of him. Soon.

*

"Like that?" Tony asks, and doesn't mention that his thumbs are cramping. He's jerked Bruce off enough times to know what he likes, but the difference between that ever-engaging pastime and the upper-body workout that is trying to get a handle on Hulk is exponential.

"MORE." The bed doesn't creak alarmingly when his hips move anymore.

If Tony modifies Butterfingers and gets the code right , that would help. Pepper says, "I could do another fifty reps if you need me to spell you."

Tony has had his share of energetic sex in the past--marathons, group sex with outlandish positions, you name it--and this is melting his brain while it builds up his biceps, the way Hulk looks with his defenses down, not quite like Bruce on the edge of orgasm but close, closer than Bruce probably wants to hear about. "You know who we need to invite over? Steve."

Hulk covers his hands with one expansive palm, squeezing himself until Tony's fingers are crushed too tightly to move. "MMM," he says.

"Yeah," Tony agrees. "He'd be good for it, as long as you need him to be." He winces. "Can I have my hands back?"

This "MMN" is a more reluctant, but the blood flow is sweet and stings like coming back to life. He'll apologize for giving up if it ever matters.

"You don't have to do it all yourself unless you want to," Pepper says.

Her hand looks small and delicate on his hip, like some kind of flower in a well-manicured lawn.

"We could call Steve now if you wanted," Tony says.

The room shakes when Hulk groans.

"At this time of night, he's probably working out." Pepper jumps in with both feet, proving one more time why Tony loves her best. "All sweaty in one of those t-shirts he wears when he wants to pretend they make him look normal."

"NOT NORMAL," Hulk says, which is pretty coherent for him, especially considering how fast his hand's moving.

Tony's impressed, but not so impressed he'll change the subject. "He'd get here fast if we told him we had a teammate in need of some help. He wouldn't stop to change, not when he knew you were waiting."

"NOT NEED HELP. NOT NEED STEVE. NEED--" and there goes the coherence, along with a squeeze.

JARVIS is keeping records of all the pressure involved. Tony tries not to wince too obviously, but he's revising his plans for next time. Putting himself in Hulk's loving hands sounds more life-threatening than fun when he can see just how careful he isn't with himself.

"Do you need a kiss?" Pepper asks.

"NGH" doesn't sound much like yes or no, but at least it's not a full-on roar.

"We've got you," she says, brave, perfect Pepper, and kisses him.

The bedsprings make an almighty creak when Hulk's hips land on them.

Bruce comes to needing a shower worse than the time they chased a robot into a slaughterhouse. And laughing.

*

"I think there are some drawbacks with the GHL Project," Bruce says, using Tony's acronym in full knowledge that he's breaking all the unspoken rules of relationship discussions by bringing the subject up when he has two slick fingers in Tony's ass and his other hand between Pepper's thighs, giving her enough friction to tease but not enough to get her off, not yet.

"Fuck, what?" Tony asks.

Pepper bites her lip. "You want to stop? If you need to--"

"I don't want to stop." Any of it, he doesn't say, because there's only so much multitasking he can handle at once. And if he's breaking rules, the least he can do is strive for utmost clarity in his word choice here. "You're--you're making me more comfortable in my skin, all the time, than I ever have been."

Pepper shivers and rocks her hips, grinding against his wrist. He could do this for her, he will do this for her next time, if she wants it from him. "Good, good," she says.

Anyone else, and he might think she was only talking about the way that feels, but Pepper multitasks with the best of them.

"Drawbacks, fuck," Tony says, and holds onto Bruce's wrist, stilling his hand so he can't pull out but it's also harder to nudge at his prostate. "What drawbacks? Details, Banner."

Bruce sighs. He knew going into this that they were two of the most dangerous people he'd ever met, and they keep proving him right about that. "I trust him more."

"Not a drawback."

"Not enough for the things he wants. The things I can't stop thinking about."

They're both looking at him with betrayal in their eyes, all because he has the worst timing. "Like what?" Pepper asks.

"You know how little dogs think they're the biggest dog in the world?" He goes on over Tony's splutter, over whatever words Tony's trying to come up with. "It's like that, but the other way around. You wouldn't believe how much he wants you both. To--to fuck you, and it doesn't make sense to him that that's not going to work."

"Oh--oh, god." Pepper twists, squeezes his hand between her thighs, her face tight, his knuckles firm against her as she shakes.

"Yeah, I know, Pep," Tony says hoarsely, and he lets Bruce's wrist go. "We could make it work."

Bruce says, "No," and doesn't swear for emphasis. He doesn't need to.

"Bodies are amazingly resilient." Tony is ever the optimist.

"No."

"You're not calling off the experiments," Pepper says, half a breathy question.

Bruce sighs. "Not yet."

"Good," Tony says, and pats his hip. "Then we'll keep doing whatever works with you, and you can fuck me now. Now is a good time for it. The best time."

Bruce kisses him with all the lingering, delicate friction of tongues that never happens when they're working on the project. "We won't, you won't--"

"Whenever you're ready."

Bruce catches the double entendre, but can't bring himself to care.

*

"Enhanced senses," Bruce told her once, "in a general sense and a specific one. Not so enhanced that he's more susceptible to Mace than a baseline human, but his hearing is excellent."

There must be some correlation between not being extra-sensitive to Mace and being willing to spread Pepper's thighs, to carefully ease her buttocks apart with huge, warm fingers and lick her with the kind of biological bravery that comes with much too much gamma radiation and full cellular reboot capabilities.

She doesn't want to know how that tastes--all possible cleanliness notwithstanding--to super-powered tastebuds.

She's not thinking about it now, not at all, and it is easier than anything to put it out of her mind and let herself melt into the next lick. She wants to praise him, wants to let him know how good this is, but she has no words for it, only "Ohh--" drawn out in a shuddering breath. With anyone else, it would feel too naked. She would try to bite it back.

He hums against her, a pleased noise that vibrates up her spine like the purring of a massive cat.

Tony strokes her hair where it's spread out on the pillow like she's some kind of debauched Sleeping Beauty. "Is that as good as it sounds?"

"Yes." She grabs his hand, holding onto something she knows, something comprehensible, with all the roughness of his calluses and the familiar machine-shop smell of his unmanicured fingernails--there isn't, shouldn't be anything erotic about that slurping sound, it should be ridiculous--she's moaning and writhing under a giant green man who's opening her with his tongue and the next time Tony makes an outré suggestion in bed, she will only ask him if he's sure about that twice. Not that they haven't done this, but it's different, like this, everything is different and more.

"MORE?" His breath is cool and the vibration of the word shudders through her.

Pepper lifts her hips, begs with her posture and feels wanton, beautiful, open. "Please, more." Like this, she speaks his language.

"Oh, yeah," Tony says, like the impossibly warm wetness is attacking him, not her, driving him crazy.

"I need--" she says, and doesn't have to say more, doesn't know how he knows the end of the sentence when she doesn't have breath or thought for it, but his fingers reach around her hip, brace her, give her what she needs to rock against.

She jerks helplessly, mindlessly, with less control than the infinitely dangerous man holding her as if he could break her--he could, so easily--and tasting her, teasing her, supporting her as she writhes and begs, "Don't stop," her hips circling and bucking, begging for more, more, more.

Too soon, it is too much, and she says, "Stop," her voice wrecked and her body shivering.

"HUG?" he asks, and she nods.

"Damn, that was gorgeous," Tony says, bright-eyed, as they gather her into their arms. "When's my turn?"

"SOON."

*

"NOW," Hulk says, and when he says "Now," he's not fucking around this time. It's a good thing they've taught him their limits, it's a good thing he's learned about the fragility of ribs and exactly how much weight he can put on a person before they can't breathe.

Hulk's almost crushing Tony. Almost is the operative word, because there is enough Hulk on him that if the big guy wasn't completely aware of him, he'd be a thin paste at this point.

And his erection--trapped between his stomach and Tony's torso, and rubbing, and fuck, that's hot.

"All right down there?" Pepper asks.

Tap once for no, twice for yes, and three times for "Holy shit, pull out the tranquilizers." Two taps, and Hulk grabs his wrist.

Three taps will get him out of this, or three nudges.

They tested that before anything, before the first hug, because Bruce is a brilliant man who spends at least half of his brilliance worrying about things when he should be spending it being as amazing as everyone else knows he is.

Tony can breathe--only just--but that means there's a working brain in there, way over his head.

Someone else has to do the worrying now because he's safe, right here, and Hulk is moaning low enough to shake his whole body. Tony can barely move his hips to grind up against him, can't really be a good anything like this except something to hump against. "Fuck, yeah," he says, with what breath he's got.

A kiss would probably kill him with asphyxia and orgasm at the same time.

They'll have to try it sometime, figure out a way--but not now, not while he's got all this unstoppable weight on him.

The next lesson will be about how lube helps with frottage, something Bruce knows--he could probably figure out the coefficient of friction mid-thrust--but all Tony can do is make a noise that's more like a mew than mu.

It's not very manly, but fuck manly, he doesn't have any oxygen here.

"GOOD. GOOD?" The second one is a real question.

"Yeah, fuck--fuck--" It takes a few gasps for a real sentence, saving up, and then he loses his breath for a good ten, twenty, thirty seconds when Hulk grinds down against him harder. Almost thoughtless, but if he was really thoughtless Tony would be in pain instead of incredibly turned on. "Yeah, like that." Another crushing, flattening thrust, another gasp. "Come all over me."

Hulk's groan is deafening, and he loses control--finally, awesomely, rutting with all his strength and weight and coming hard as hell--and it doesn't matter that Tony can't breathe, it makes it perfect, and he might, possibly, lose consciousness a little bit between not having air and the strength of his own shattering orgasm.

He says, "Fuck, yeah," with his next conscious breath.

Hulk pats his sticky cheek with infinite delicacy, braced over him. "GOOD."

"Yeah, it was."

*

Tony has the worst timing of anyone Bruce has ever met, which makes Bruce feel better about the times his discretion gives out and he says awful things. Then again, there's such a thing as a time and a place. Bruce isn't going to stop nuzzling Pepper's clit and easing his fingers into her in order to answer Tony's question, "You know when I said I wanted you to Hulk out and fuck me?"

"God," Pepper says, and thumps her head against the pillow, probably not for the right reasons.

Bruce decides that it's a rhetorical question and swirls his tongue again. He's not going to dignify that query with an answer.

"I take it back," Tony says, and Bruce looks up, startled. He hasn't heard Tony back down from anything yet.

"What?" he asks, in case the perfect thighs around his ears were somehow impeding his hearing.

Pepper runs her fingers through his hair and gives Tony a reproachful look. "Sometimes he has epiphanies. Always at the worst possible time. Keep going."

"Sorry." Bruce smiles apologetically at her and goes back to it, treasuring her soft gasp.

Tony keeps talking as if they're both focused on him, for all he's sitting at the end of the bed, one hand on his cock and the other on Bruce's ankle, anchoring them both. "I thought you'd remember. Okay, I was--it was wishful thinking. Eyes bigger than my anything, I accept that. It makes a great fantasy and I'm not going to stop fantasizing about it, because fuck, you're hot, but I was wrong."

"Oh, fuck," Pepper says, arching her back. "Say that again--"

"What, that I was wrong?"

She moans and thumps the mattress.

Bruce is absolutely certain based on all available data that she's faking an orgasm, but he's not going to call her on it. Tony needs all the positive reinforcement he can get to admit his mistakes.

Tony starts talking again when she stops moaning. "I know you better than that, Potts," he says, affection so heavy in his voice that Bruce feels like he's intruding, keeping them apart from each other, for one painful moment before Pepper tugs at his hair again. "Anyway," and Tony squeezes Bruce's ankle, "it wouldn't work, and it would hurt you more than me if we tried it because I have put all kinds of incredibly stupid stuff up my butt and no big deal, I'd heal, but I couldn't take having you give me that guilty look every time I sat down and winced. So we're not going to try it."

Bruce doesn't say, "About time," or "Thank you," but he thinks them loudly.

"If you ever feel up to pretending, though," Tony says, a hopeful note in his voice. "You know, if you growl at me and go all incoherent--that'd be hot, too."

Bruce gives him the double-tap for "Yes" and licks Pepper till she really does come.

*

The Hulk-appropriate way to say, "Please keep your hands to yourself" turns out to be pushing his hands away from her head firmly. Pepper has to brace herself to do it, like she has to brace herself to put her mouth on his cock. There's nothing wrong with his cock, except that if she tries to do much more than lick him and pet him with her hands, she'll have to dislocate her jaw, and that's not her idea of an evening's entertainment. If he was as dangerous as everyone--as Bruce--is afraid he is, they'd never have gotten this far in the first place.

He makes a small, unhappy noise, but he doesn't complain in words, and he lets his hands fall to his sides. She gives him a kiss for that, right on the tip of his cock, and says, "You can pet me, but don't push."

"PETTING GOOD."

"Hell yes, it is," Tony says, and kisses Pepper's cheek before getting in a lick of his own.

They've been dancing around this possibility for a while, partially because of the jaw-dislocation factor which is enough to scare anybody off, and partially because there are so many other things to do, most of which don't involve being at eye-level with frankly terrifying veins throbbing deep green. Then again, as group activities go, it's easy to share.

A team-building experience, Pepper thinks, and has to pause long enough to bite her lip and stop herself from giggling.

"You okay?" Tony asks.

"I just--" she shakes her head and tries to shake it all off, but she can't. Sometimes the reality of what she's doing gets to her, her superhero boyfriend and their shape-changing lover whose huge cock is staring her in the face, green as grass but much more insistent. The giggles get the better of her and come spilling out. "This is crazy, you know that?" She pats Hulk's thigh. "I mean, all of it. And there's so much of it."

"Our cup runneth over," Tony says, and winks at her. "Among other things. Big guy, I hate to break it to you, but neither of us is going to try to swallow, here."

Hulk strokes her hair with as much finesse as he's capable of. "MORE?"

"Right." Pepper squares her shoulders, getting a grip on herself, and begins again.

It's easy enough to make Hulk come with practice, friction, persistence, and encouragement. The urge to laugh fades away once she refocuses and makes herself stop imaging the Avengers bonding over this particular activity. There's enough to go around, but she doesn't want him to think she's laughing at him.

With the rush of orgasm past, she realizes that she's never seen him laugh in this state, and she wants to.

None of the jokes she can think of afterward are on his level. Pepper decides she'll have to do research into the subject. Bruce likes bad scientific puns, but those wouldn't be appropriate. Slapstick might work.

*

The logistics discussion does not include the phrase "PUNY PENIS" more than once, a fact for which Tony is sort of grateful. As grateful as he thinks it deserves, considering the faces Bruce makes when he is considering his options.

"SHINY," Hulk says, and gets his huge fingers almost as greasy as Tony's hand while Tony's prepping. "SMELL LIKE FOOD."

"Crisco is traditional for good reasons, but don't lick it," Tony says. "Though if you want to, actually, go for it. Now, anyway. It's not going to hurt you."

Pepper says, "I don't think it's even got trans fats in it anymore."

"It just tastes like--"

Hulk makes a face. "NOT FOOD."

"Yeah," Tony agrees.

It gets a little more dignified from there, as dignified as fisting ever gets. Hulk sighs several of his enormous, gusty sighs while Tony's assuring himself with one finger, then two, that he can handle the muscles involved.

"Do you want to stop?" Pepper asks him.

"BORING," Hulk says. "KISS NOW."

Tony would take that as a challenge from anybody else, but he doesn't want to provoke the big guy while he's kissing the hell out of Pepper. "Not enough for you?" he asks.

That gets him an incredibly sardonic green look from somebody who can't spell sardonic in his present state. "MORE. NOW."

The skepticism makes the groan that follows better. Tony and his poor, maligned penis want some, now. After, he tells himself, because Bruce has never complained about how big he is, or asked for a round of handball.

Which makes the sight of his arm disappearing into Hulk and the warm muscles squeezing at him totally surreal, until he groans. "MORE."

Tony trimmed all his fingernails while he was at it, not because he was expecting this request but because looking lop-sided would be weird. He says, "Give me a hand, Pep?" and sees the twitch of her lips as she discards any number of quips as being too obvious.

"How much of this do you want?" she asks.

"Lots."

She keeps one hand on Hulk's side the whole time so he's aware of where they are. He doesn't do as well when he can't see them or feel them, and while he's got no reason to wonder where Tony is, Pepper's not as grounded, here.

Tony checks the layers of goo. "You sure about this?" he asks.

The only answer is a grunt. And then a double-tap.

"I'll take it slowly," he promises.

There's something supremely humbling about having both his arms in someone else up to the elbow like the most intimate handcuffs in the world. Tony's not going to tell anybody how that feels, not even Bruce when he's in the right condition to understand it, but Pepper's watching his face, in between checking in with Hulk, and she knows.

The GHL Project has taken them to some wild, unforeseeable places, but at least they're all making the trip together. "Okay, buddy, you ready for me to move?"

*

The only ground rules Bruce insists on are simple, no body paint and no props.

He feels like an idiot growling at Tony, grunting and grabbing him by the hair. It doesn't help that for once, Tony isn't being flippant, and that he doesn't look afraid. "Come here, human," Bruce says, and kisses him.

He's not going to say much, or he'll kill his throat.

Tony could play into it better by pretending to be shorter or smaller or something. All he does is hold on to Bruce's shoulders and kiss him, not the deep, seductive kisses he likes best, but a closed-mouth kiss. "Hey, big guy," he says, and the words make Bruce's stomach twist.

Anyone else who wanted him to play this game would want rage and howling, expect to have their clothes torn off and for Bruce to somehow throw them over his shoulder and drag them off to the cave he doesn't have. No one else would sound so damn affectionate.

It's harder this way, not being a caricature of his other self. It might be too hard. Bruce says, "Get on bed," and makes it as loud and resonant as he can. He gives Tony a shove in the right direction and swats his naked ass.

Pepper says, "Are you sure this is safe, Mr. Stark?"

Bruce loves her for it, and for the tremble in her voice.

"We'd better keep him entertained until the authorities arrive," Tony says, and kneels on the bed. He's already slick because the other guy wouldn't stop to worry about that--or wouldn't have, before Tony and Pepper.

The right thing to do, the thing that makes sense for the game, is to shove inside him and growl in his ear, to bite him and fuck him as roughly as Bruce can manage with his normal body. He needs a minute. And a fluffer.

"Woman," he says, and stops himself from grimacing at saying that to Pepper. "Come here."

Kissing her is better--she doesn't pretend his tongue won't fit in her mouth and she tastes, feels, smells right. He could stand there kissing her all night long, except that what he needs is to be comfortable enough, horny enough, to follow through on what he promised. He's a fool for promising this in the first place.

She moans in his ear, not a frightened noise but the sound she makes when she's sincerely enjoying herself. "Oh, please," she says, and Bruce has no idea who she's talking to.

"Not move," he says, instead of the "Thank you, you're wonderful" that she deserves.

Being as forceful as he needs to takes another moment of preparation, a deep breath to steel himself, but he manages to bite the back of Tony's neck without worrying about it too much. "Tiny human man," he says, without laughing or wincing.

"Oh, fuck," Tony says, which has the benefit of being familiar.

So does the breathless, hungry noise he makes when Bruce pushes into him, thinking all the big thoughts he can without thinking the wrong, dangerous ones.

"Are you all right?" Pepper asks, sounding horrified. That's not the signal to stop they decided on, it's just her being a better actor than Tony and Bruce put together.

Tony groans incoherently until she gets onto the bed and kisses him. "Humans pretty," Bruce says, because they are, whether or not the other guy would ever notice it. If he thinks about them together, all the ways he's touched them and loved them, it's easier to keep going. Easier, even, to pull Tony back harder until they're moving in a rhythm that has to ache, that might leave bruises on his hips.

"Gonna kill me," Tony says, and lets his head hang. He's gasping for air, his breath rasping in his throat.

"Not kill until done," Bruce says in his ear, and gets the voice as close to right as he can manage with his chest the size it is.

"Please, please don't kill him," Pepper says, and puts her hands on Bruce's, over the crests of Tony's hips. "I'll do anything."

"Kiss," Bruce says, to save his throat and his imagination.

And because this is one of the sweetest things in his life, making love with them, knowing that whatever the hell is wrong with him, they trust him with this, and whatever the hell is wrong with them, he can trust them, too.

"Are you--are you seriously--kissing my girl? You bastard," Tony says.

Bruce laughs, not quite his real laugh but close enough, and grabs Tony's cock as hard as he dares. He has muscle memory, he knows that the other guy hasn't hurt them, hasn't really been as carelessly cruel as this, but it was what Tony asked for. "Man not deserve girl. Deserve this."

Pepper has her hand over her mouth, probably trying not to laugh but keeping her eyes wide enough that it's in character.

Tony shudders and bucks under him, much further in character and much further gone than Bruce is. "You're right, you're--fuck me, please, yes--"

Groaning is easier than sentences, easier than words, and Bruce manages to be in the moment for a few rough thrusts, long enough that Tony's coming around him and moaning. "Oh, fuck," Tony says again, on his first good breath.

"Was that enough?" Bruce asks entirely in his own voice, and Pepper's there next to him, her arms around him.

"That was great." She taps Tony's shoulder. "Wasn't it?"

"Fuck, yeah," he says, and rolls his hips. "Keep going. I can take it for a little while."

Without the pressure of acting, it's easier to lose himself to Pepper kissing him like she'll never let him go and Tony saying, "Yeah, come on, we got you."

Afterward, Tony kisses him and says, "That was great."

Bruce shakes his head, mystified. "I was terrible at it."

"You were good enough for us," Pepper says, her arms tight around him.  



End file.
